Hope
by Flower Crowned Gummy Bear
Summary: A novel of a young man by the name of Jacob English. He is cursed not only by his harsh past, and his dying grandmother, but by a vampiric prince as well, Dirk Strider. He is faced with a life populated with slavery, death, but also love, and hope.


**Phase I: Gentleman, Jacob.**

Chapter One

The cool of the early evening was one of the first signs that winter was on her way. The wind nipped at the skin of the civilians of London, or at least, the skin of people's faces. They were clothed properly, as they knew the cold weather was setting in. Women's cheeks were red, while their lips a tone or so under their normal hue. Men's cheeks were also pink, but maybe not entirely from the cold. At this time men would head to the inns and pubs for their evening drink; that is what Jacob did. After his six or so hours of hard work at the smithy, he would make his way to the local tavern named The Sweet Rose Inn. There he would order a big mug of warm mead, and sometimes, if he had a few extra coin, he would by himself a little meal of bread and cheese. But tonight was not a normal work night for him. On his journey to the inn, he had stumbled across an unfathomable sight. One that everyone knew of, but very few had seen.

On his brisk walk, hands in his coat pockets, a cigarette in between his plump lips, he had stopped in the middle of the roadway due to his hat falling off of his head from that cool autumn wind. When he had knelt down to retrieve it, a dark ebony carriage had almost hit him. Poor Jacob had received such a fright that he had fallen onto his bottom when two dark horses loomed over him. His dull, green eyes had seemed to go even duller when his soul was scared right out of his person.  
When he got back to his feet, he took one – maybe two – steps back, waiting to see if the carriage driver would say anything. The driver said nothing. He had looked almost dead, long and dark black hair tied into a tight ponytail revealed a pale face; dark blue bags under his eyes further exposed how lifeless he had looked. Jacob's eyes flicked from the driver, and to the door that suddenly swung open. The people around had also stopped, watching in awe as a gentleman stepped out the dark stagecoach. Jacob glanced at the man's shoes. They were formal dress shoes, much like any nobleman would wear, and they were polished to perfection. Upon closer inspection they were detailed with fine lace-like patters round the toe of the shoe. The man's pants fit perfectly, much like the coat that he wore. Black gloves covered the man's hands, and a wine toned scarf kept his neck warm. Finally, Jacob looked at the man's face. It was like porcelain, in colour and texture. He had not a single blemish on his face, nor a sign of blood under his skin. He had a sharp and angular face; it was harsh. His lips were small, with the top lip being ever so slightly thicker than it's lower counter part; they were the only part of his face that seemed to not be pale, as they were a gentle rose colour. His eyes revealed who and what he was, a vampire. He had piercing amber eyes, which seemed to be the main thing that frightened and amazed Jacob all together. What made the man look even more pale was his platinum blonde hair, which was the only thing that can be described as untidy, but even that seemed to make his overall appearance look perfect.

Jacob watched him, stunned, frozen. The vampire stared at him, as if also shocked by something. Finally, Jacob had mustered up an apology, to which the vampire replied,  
"Are you blind?" His voice was smooth, but that factor was overlooked with how cruel he sounded.  
"No, I'm not, sir. I had simply dropped my hat, is all." Jacob replied, gripping the headpiece into deformity. The tangerine eyes looked at the common hat.  
"Do not get in my way again." He commanded, and looked at his horses that seemed to be at disease. He stepped to them, and stroked the one's neck, instantly calming both the beasts.  
"Now get out of the way." He added before stepping back into the carriage. Jacob did just that, and watched as the carriage rode off. Everyone around began to talk of who the man was. Whispers of his name reached Jacob's ear. He had learned that he had just gotten in the way of the royal Prince of Heart, Dirk Strider. Though, he had not heard that name before, and it had no meaning to him, he still felt the awful feeling of dread hang over him. With a pale, scared face, he made his way to the Sweet Rose Inn, where instead of mead, he had ordered whiskey. Not a social word slipped out of his mouth. The barman looked at his loyal customer and frowned,  
"What is the matter, old chap? You look like you saw a ghost or something of the similar sort." He spoke. Jacob looked at the man before downing the liquor, and licking his cold, fat lips.  
"Aye. Bumped into a vampire."  
"Ah, those creatures," the barman started, "they are pouring into this city faster than rats at a pile of garbage, I tell ye! Everywhere I turn my ear to, all I hear are stories about these vampires."  
Jacob held his glass out for a top up of his drink, "Like what?"  
"All the sorts. Of how this one vampire killed a man's poor wife, or how this woman vampire seduced that fella before ripping his throat out. People are always complaining, being bitter about them, but nothing is being done about it."  
Jacob turned to a man at another stool of the bar as he spoke, "There is a hunter association down near the outskirts of London, you know."  
"Aye, but what are they doing about it? Nothing, I tell ye. They go about with their fancy badges, but when they hear a man has been slaughtered, they do nothing to solve it." The barman replied. Jacob only drank his drink when it was refilled. He had always heard stories of these beasts, and of the hunter association, yet always in the back of his mind he refused to accept they were real. He saw them as only myths, as city legends told to youngsters to scare them. He felt like he was young again, with his fear coating his skin like the cold.  
He had soon left the two men to continue bickering about the undead creatures, as he needed to head home. He had his grandmother to get back to.

It was about a fifteen-minute walk back to Jacob's little house. He stepped into his home, to quickly shut the door as to not let the warmth escape. His house always welcomed him with a dark little entrance hall, where he hung his tattered, dull emerald coat, slipped off his chipped and creased work boots, and rested his hat on the little shelf that served no other purpose than to hold the headwear. He proceeded upstairs, where he immediately made his way to the kitchen to prepare tea. Often he would follow the routine of brushing back his thick, short black hair, which was followed by a scratching of his stubble coated jaw, and then a little cough. The cough had always been a subtle way of notifying his grandmother that he was home. She was too frail to reply, but at least she knew. Jacob's grandmother, known as Jade Harley English, had been the guardian of Jacob from around the age of thirteen. Saving him from his abusive childhood was no easy task for her, but when she did so, she had done a good job in keeping him a secret from those pursuing him – luckily the men had given up after a while. Yet, she was old at that time, and when Jacob reached the age of sixteen, she had fallen to horrible uneasiness. Constant coughing and bodily pain haunted her ever since. From then, Jacob had taken the role of being her guardian instead.

While the kettle had boiled, Jacob lit a cigarette, which he would smoke by the window. He watched the city dwellers outside, and often he'd see familiar faces. If they saw him in the window, they nodded or smiled courtly, and he did the same. Sometimes he would lean out the window to initiate in conversation, which normally consisted of how his grandmother was doing. His answer was the same; "Well, but could be better."

He had finished his cigarette by the time the kettle was done, and after closing the window, he prepared tea for himself and his grandmother. He walked up another flight of narrow stairs, a tired look in his eyes. He cared not for dinner, but knew he had to prepare it for his sick Jade. Thinking of how he did not want to prepare supper, he stepped up the tight set of stairs slowly. Before he entered the room, he halted due to the sound of Grandmother Jade talking to someone. Jacob was so sure he heard another voice, a voice of the rougher sex. He licked his lips with sudden nerve, and opened the door slightly. To his surprise, no one was there save for Jade, who lay in bed, covered by a few blankets, her stream of silver hair flowing out to the sides of her body beautifully.  
"Hello, my dear grandson." She smiled, her wrinkled face stretching. Her face showed that she knew of many things, of places and peoples. Each wrinkle was another story for her to tell, and in Jacob's younger years, he had admired her sense of adventure and curiosity, and he had always wanted to go on his own travels. Yet as time went on, and his mind became more mature, he knew those would just be dreams, and only dreams.  
"Hello grandmother." Jacob replied, setting the tray holding the two teacups down on the near by dressing table.  
"I was just talking to my dear, sweet friend." She stated. Jacob looked back at her before stepping over to hand her tea to her.  
"Sweet friend? Where is this sweet chap you are talking about, grandmother?" He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, helping her with the beverage.  
"Why…" Her eyes flicked about the room, "he was here just about a moment ago. I would love for you to meet him. I have a great feeling you two will get along very splendidly."  
Jacob looked around the room too, seeing – just like her – no one. He turned back to her, laying a hand on her thin arm.  
"My, grandmother, sometimes you do worry your grandson so. I see no person in here but you and me. How did he come in?"  
"He simply stepped into my bedroom, like any other person would."

"But I locked the door, like I always did. Do you want to play tricks on me?" He smiled sweetly at her. She giggled, but it turned into a wet cough.  
"Of course not."

After he had helped her finish her drink, and finished his own beverage, he moved back to the lower story to prepare dinner. Porridge was the only thing he could make without ruining it. While he was excellent in terms of making tea, he could not handle things pertaining to food, despite all of these years of tending to his grandmother. As he prepared the meal, the thought of that supposed ghost she talked to flooded his mind, as well as the vampire he saw earlier. Often, when in deep thought, Jacob had the habit of chewing at his bottom lip. It would swell and hurt. Jacob's lips were magnificently thick, and unlike the vampire, he had an overall softer look about him. While he had a strong jaw, which greatly defined his manliness, he had large, innocent, eyes, holding dark emerald irises. If those irises were caught in the glimpse of the sun, lighter shades of green were sprinkled across the pools of dark green. His skin was also tanned, from hard labour as a child on farmlands. Overall he was a gorgeous man, who made girls turn their heads to get a second glance of him.

The second round of going up the stairs seemed to be just like the first. He heard a voice again, which was not his grandmother's. It was far from it, actually! He nudged the door open with his foot, and it opened ever so slowly, releasing an almost eerie creak. The door dramatically revealed a character from before, the Prince of Heart. In fright, Jacob dropped the two bowls of porridge, and the food – along with the bowls – messed the floor. Jade jumped in her spot, the loud sound hurting her ears. Those amber eyes shot up at Jacob, looking offended.  
"What the bloody dickens are you doing in my house?" Jacob exclaimed, his deep voice reaching a higher pitch in terror. The vampire looked down at the slop on the floor, almost grimacing at it.  
"Jacob, please, do not use rude language in front of our guest." Jade asked politely.  
"Our guest? This man… he… he is a vampire!" Jacob stated. Dirk stood up and fixed his shirt. He looked at Jade, his profile outlined by the candle behind him,  
"It's a shame I cannot stay longer," He spoke as he stepped toward Jade, offering his hand for her to take, "it looks like I came at the wrong time."  
Jacob made a few noises, sounding as if he wanted to say words but was constantly interrupted by his fear. He instinctively snatched the closest thing to him, being the spoon that dropped on the floor. He pointed it at Dirk, ready to defend his grandmother with it. The vampire's eyes looked up at Jacob, and he couldn't help but let amusement turn his lip upward into a smirk. Fangs poked out from his top lip, and Jacob looked at them, as if they belonged to a dire wolf. He kissed Jade's frail hand and stepped away. Without a word he stepped to the window, opened it, and leaped out.  
"Just remember my offer, Jade." He said before leaving.  
Jacob stood with his cheeks red, feeling like an absolute fool. He apologized for his behavior to his grandmother, and then cleaned up the mess. With anxiety burning his chest, he had hoped that he would only see Dirk Strider once, and only once in his life. He knew that that hope of his was never going to become reality.  
After serving Jade her dinner for the second time round, Jacob went to rest without food going near his lips. His appetite was taken away by the feeling of fright. He sat on his chair in the small living room, which had served as his bed since Jade fell ill, his leg bouncing in concern. He did not want to bother his grandmother any more about her supposed friend. That he would do tomorrow; he let her rest for today. As for himself, he was prepared to sit the whole night in wonder.

* * *

Chapter Two

The smithy in which Jacob worked was disorganized and constantly hot; the heat of the fires that forged the steel was contained in a small space. This made all the men working there flustered and drenched in sweat. While it was warm for the customers, it was a hellish heat to the workers, as in contrast to the visitors – who stayed for a maximum of twenty minutes – the men worked long hours in the warmth of the forge. They would work in shifts; the morning shift began at five o'clock in the morning, when it was sometimes the coldest, and end at eleven later that day. That was the shift that all the workers desired, as by that time the men could go home to their wife and child, or they could go spend their recreational time out in the country. That is what Jacob's dear friend Marcus would do. He headed home to pick up his wife and sister, and together – in the carriage he hired – they would go visit Stonehenge, or go for tea at their cousin's farm. He only did this monthly, he told Jacob, for the only reason was because he couldn't afford a carriage too often.

Jacob had the afternoon shift, which began at midday and ended at six in the evening. Between those times is when the most customers came; nobles, mercenaries, all kinds of men came to retrieve their finely crafted weapons there. The workers would only receive a fifteen-minute break, where they had to quickly eat and do what they needed to do. It was a difficult and laborious occupation, and Jacob felt it was all for null and void. The pay was not as great as one would expect. While the weapons the blacksmiths made were beyond gorgeous, they only received five percent of the overall pay. Most of the money Jacob received would go toward his grandmother. He would buy her medicine, and food, and all he would treat himself to was a cheap drink in the evening.

Jacob was one of the men that would hit the blade into shape; it is where he gained most of his muscle over the years. He would usually step out of his workplace with black under his nails, blisters between his fingers, and sweat dripping off his brow. When walking down the streets of London, the noblemen riding or walking by would grimace at the sight of how dirty he appeared. They never looked at him with thanks, oh no. They were to never acknowledge the fact that he shaped the fine weapon that hung on their belt.

Mostly men bought swords for decoration, or simply to compliment their outfits. Combat consisted of a bullet fired from a gun now. Swords were for leisurely use, mainly. One always knew that if a man were to point a gun at another, it was not for sparring, but for blood to be spilled. Jacob was one of those people, to follow the main stream. While it was not of a desirable make, he kept a small pistol with him, and swore to only use it when necessary. Without his glasses on, Jacob was an accurate shot. He never missed a target, for he was born with the extraordinary gift of precision. It was a pity that it was restrained to such defective eyesight. While from afar he could see everything clearly and beautifully, but when it came to seeing something right in front of him, it was as if he was looking through steamed glass. The need for good eyesight within his job had brought up a habit of constantly wearing his spectacles.

When his work was close to ending for the day, his glasses had fallen off his head, causing them to fall in the hot coals nearby. He felt absolutely foolish after trying to nab his glasses from the heat, as nothing happened other than his hand burning. So he ambled home with a wet, cold cloth wrapped around his hand, his eyes squinting. He had gotten home safely, and followed the usual routine of preparing tea and delivering it to the fragile, aged Jade, after finding another pair of glasses. He had managed to buy himself a spare; they had a very narrow frame, and the glasses just covered his eyes.  
He sat on the edge of the bed, helping her with her tea as usual. Finally he had built up enough courage to question Jade's 'dear friend', and his offer.  
"Why, Jacob, he is just an old friend. We worked together, and created a lot of inventions together. Most importantly, he taught me how to hide you from the farm," She explained, her voice going bubbly before it turned into a cough. Jacob kept quiet.  
"And he is just so stubborn, that boy. He will not rest until I accept his offer." She added.  
"Offer?" Jacob questioned again.  
"Yes. He has offered to make me immortal, and young again."  
"Will you accept it, grandmother?" He turned to her fully, seemingly interested all of a sudden, his brows raised.  
"I will not."  
"But why? This could help you with your jolly awful sickness. Do you not want it to go?"  
"Of course I want it to go, but what is out there for me in this modern and awful world? I have played my part, and I must move on."  
Jacob frowned, not wanting to hear those words slip from Jade's old lips.  
"But you cannot leave just yet. I need you here." He took her hand, and squeezed it just a little too tightly.  
"Oh my dear, why do you need me here? You have work, a home. All you do with your coin is spend it on a dying woman. Do not. My days are almost done, and that will give you time to find a woman, and together you can have a child." She smiled ever so sweetly. Jacob did not look at her smile, as he did not want a woman, or a child just yet. He wanted to ease his grandmother's pain. All he did in reply was nod, and with a forced smile he moved downstairs to prepare dinner. He did so quickly, and admittedly, it was most likely the most unsatisfying dish he had ever made. This was so, because he had another thing that clouded his mind. He needed to find a way to help her, and he knew that the only way was to confront the devilish monster himself. The one who offered Jade a healthier life. It was that, or simply ending her life now, but Jacob would never be able to muster up the bravery to do so, and god forbid he ask another's assistance. He did not want her to leave just yet. He thought blindly. He thought foolishly. He had too much hope in his heart, and it was beginning to glaze over his eyes, making him naïve and childish. Yet, no word of compromise or difference was going to change Jacob's decision. Therefore, after dinner, he left the house, and made his way to the Sweet Rose Inn.

He was quick and brash in order to find out where the vampire lived, and it was easy to hear word of where he stayed. He lived in the outskirts of the city, where all the other manors were. An old chap had informed Jacob that the manor was closed off by a large gold gate, decorated with horses, and presented the family's emblem on it. The family emblem's centre had a large cursive S and L, which was surrounded by roses, and a shield lay behind the initials, with two swords crossed at the back of it. The man was kind enough to rent out his horse to Jacob, who had no issue in paying him the money. No regret seeped into Jacob's mind as yet, for he was focused on one thing, and that was to heal his only family.  
To him, the journey to the manor was rather quick, and the closer he was to that infamous gate, the more his weak heart began to race. He stopped the stallion in front of the gate, and his eyes glanced over the fine work on the magnificent entrance. His eyes could not help but scan the entire thing, and at one point, his mind was so distracted in the artwork that he jumped when the gates opened for horse itself even let out a noise of uneasiness.  
The determination that brought Jacob thus far was starting to dwindle rather quickly, and the feeling of turning back made him stuck in a position of indecision. The gravel road ahead was long, and escalated to a hill. From Jacob's position he could only eye the roof of the manor, and even that was daunting. Yet, with the gates opening, he could feel this undeniable urge to step in, and to enter a realm that he was foreign to. He knew of the possible dangers; he knew of potential slavery, abuse, and death, but that damnable seduction of vampirism lured him into the property.

The gravel road was perfectly bordered by larger rocks, evenly placed to make the whole path look clean. The soft beige of the stones seemed to make the grass of the lawn look greener, despite the muffled light from the moon. Once one would come to the apex of the hill, their eyes would be blessed by a gorgeous building. It looked like a building that was from times of old. The walls were blemished with ivy climbing up them. The windows seemed to be like ghosts, as they showed not a single sign of life, save for one window. This window glowed due to the light of a candle or two, yet, there was no sign of movement.  
Overall the palette of the house was made up of dull colours, all except for the dark ebony door.  
A small set of stairs lead up to the front door, and a round, brick finished driveway lead to the stairs. In the centre of the circular driveway was a large pond, that was drained out and replaced with a thick bush of white roses. As Jacob neared the manor, the moon peeked out from the clouds, making the white roses glow.

He took note of nearby poles, which were placed there to restrain the horses that would bring the visitors. Once he restrained the horse, he fixed his jacket, and stepped to the door. Before knocking, the man looked up to the window that presented light. The sudden wonder of vampires and their hatred for fire came to Jacob's mind. When he was younger, he had read stories that gave off information about vampires. One fact that he remembered well was that vampires disliked fire. The only reason why he would never forget this fact was because of the image that came in correspondence to it. It was an illustration of a vampire that was burning. The creature was depicted somewhat demonic, with pointed ears and wolf-like fangs. The vampire was also bald, and had skin of sheer white, which was being singed by the fire. The image was frightening to young Jacob, because of those visually terrifying portrayals of the vampire. It is one of the reasons why Jacob was so shocked when he saw the prince. He was not demonic, rather quite the contrary. Dirk Strider was a perfect man, and perhaps, was too perfect. His beauty alone seemed to be intimidating, but Jacob knew all too well that there was more to him than appearance.

He licked his dry lips before knocking on the door softly, which seemed to make little to no impact. In all honesty, he barely heard his own knock, and so he knocked again. It was a split second before the door cracked open. The man who steered the carriage - who had a tired look to his face - answered to Jacob's knock. No word left the other's lips, which cued Jacob to speak.  
"Good evening, my good sir," he started, stuttering, "I would like to speak with your master. Dirk Strider, I believe?" The man stepped aside, letting the heavy door reveal a dark entrance hall. Jacob stepped in, immediately feeling as if he insulted the eloquence of the place with his rags.  
The entrance hall, just like the rest of the manor, was floored with wood, which creaked with almost every step one took. Ahead, and a little to the right of Jacob was a slim staircase, dressed with a red carpet that was decorated with gold spirals. The stairs escalated up, and turned left, where it became level, forming a balcony that looked back down on Jacob. From there it turned left again, and moved upward. The moonlight was the only source of light that provided Jacob with any assistance for sight, which beamed down from the many windows of the room.

In the entrance hall, one is presented with eight options, not including the stairs. Firstly, the first door to the left was the entrance to the dining room, which was like any other room within the manor, dark and antique. Next door to the dining room was the kitchen, floored with a lighter, cheaper sort of wood that was allowed to be spilled on. The walls were of a brighter colour too; a soft yellow wall paper covered the walls. It seemed to contradict the rest of the house, as it appeared to be more of a kitchen easily found in a grandmother's home. The two rooms were connected by a door, which the staff - if there were any - would pass through to deliver meals.

The first door to the right welcomed a man to a common room, which was rather large. Red velvet sofas were the closest thing to the door, and surrounded a large fireplace that was decorated with small paintings of - presumably - other family members. Behind the sofas was a large bookshelf, and next to that, hanging on the wall, was a shield. It bared the family emblem. In the corner, closest to the door, was a classical suit of armor, which appeared neglected. Dust covered the silver like a second skin.  
Near the back of the room was a liquor cabinet, stacked with types of brandies and whiskeys from different years, all labeled with gold letters, thus showing off their worth.  
The following door was simply a coat closet, which held different types of coats. Some were made of fine leather, and others of pure fur.  
The next room would be a library, which connected to a salon. Those rooms looked untouched, though it appeared the prince occasionally visited the library. Books were scattered across the room, which were not covered in dust.  
The second last door lead to the basement, and the final door was the back door, which opened to a verandah which overlooked the property's impressive gardens. At the end of the gardens was another building, which was narrow and tall in build. This building was the shrine, which as of now, did not hold any importance.

The tired looking man then vanished, leaving Jacob alone in the entrance hall. He assumed that the servant rushed off to go call his master, but after waiting for a couple of minutes, Jacob decided to step forth. He peered into the doors that were offered to him, only to find no one. Confusion began to flood his mind more than anything, and so no fear came over him when he decided to migrate upstairs. He rested his hand on the railing, and stepped slowly upward, the creaking wood making the place appear even more eerie. On his transcendence upward, he stopped to look out the window that took up the entirety of the wall on the level area of the staircase. His eyes rested upon the colorful plant life within the gardens. Roses, poppies, all the sorts, organized to neat rows. This also contradicted another idea of Jacob's. He took vampires as creatures that lived in complete darkness, and had no desire to acquaint themselves with that of hobbies such as gardening. Though, it might be possible that the prince hired a gardener.

Jacob then turned to climb up the flight some more, and as he reached the top, a feeling of de ja vu had hit him. A soft, mumbling noise of another's voice reached Jacob's ear, and his confusion sparked into fear as he stumbled back and bolted down the stairway. Blind in his fear, he had tripped over his own feet as he was about the reach the door. His head was severely close to hitting the ebony door. Nevertheless, he fell hard, and sorely. He lay static for a while, recovering from the clumsy fall. He slowly lifted his head, blinking. Yet another one of his glasses broken, and all in the same day, no less! He cursed to himself, and pushed himself up. He would have to deal with a crack in the lens for sometime; he had to wait until he had enough money for more.  
As he got to his feet, he tensed at a voice echoing through the hall. He knew exactly who it was. He felt he knew that voice a little too well for comfort.  
"Can I help you?" The prince asked. Jacob was too scared to turn around, and his fear created a bubble in his throat, preventing him from speaking, suffocating him. The prince, after no response, simply cleared his throat.  
Jacob turned slowly, and his eyes rested upon Dirk, the moonlight highlighting his silhouette as he at the balcony.  
"I, well, you see..." Jacob attempted to reply, "... I heard you can help my grandmother."  
Dirk hummed, "What has happened to the man, who first despised me, for him to come begging for assistance from me?"  
His voice cooed in the darkness. Jacob licked his lips,  
"I just... Do not want my grandmother to die."  
"She will not accept my offer." Dirk's eyes burned in the darkness, and were the only feature that Jacob could see clearly in the dimness of the room.  
"I am aware of that. I was hoping you'd have a plan of some sort... To change her mind." Jacob spoke with unease.  
Dirk did not reply. He simply walked down the stairs, toward Jacob. The closer he stepped toward him, the more Jacob could see. Just like before, he had a harsh and angular face, slanted eyes presenting eyes of fire.  
"You may consider yourself lucky," he said. Jacob raised a brow, stepping a little as the vampire got closer. Dirk stopped a few steps in front of him, and presented him with a thin vile containing a crimson type of liquid.  
"This will not turn her, but it will sure as all hell cure her," he added. Jacob nodded and tried to take the vile. The prince in return evaded, and grinned evilly, "but I demand a price."  
Jacob swallowed hard, the bubble still stuck in his throat.  
"Aye. I have money." The man replied. Dirk scoffed a little,  
"I have more than enough money. In return for me giving your grandmother's life, I want yours."  
Jacob's heart dropped to his stomach, and his eyes' bright hue seemed to grow dull at the sound of that. He stared at Dirk, and then at the vile. He stared at the blood-like liquid, and saw it as a beacon of hope - for his grandmother at least. His eyes then glanced back at Dirk's, and he glared as if he was facing death itself. He swallowed again, and held out his hand, like he was making a deal with the devil. Dirk placed the vile in Jacob's hand, and he licked his fangs.  
"Place it in her tea. That will be good enough. It's enough to heal her, but it will not make her immortal," he instructed, "and when you're done there, you're mine."  
Jacob gripped the vile tightly, his whole body suddenly growing weak. The sudden need to vomit out of mere nerves made his mouth taste sour. Yet, he kept himself together. He simply looked back up at Dirk and nodded before leaving.  
Dirk watched, and with a triumphant grin, turned back to head upstairs.

Jacob felt completely lifeless, all up until he came home. It was late, and like a few days earlier, he would get no rest tonight. Luckily, he did not vomit, or react in any physical way. He sat on his chair, and stared out the window, mindlessly. He sat for the rest of the hours of the night, and when the sun began to rise, he began to pack. He packed everything, and wrote a brief note to his grandmother. He did not explain where he would go, but only that he wanted to go on his own. He continuously said sorry in the note too, and near the end of the letter, a tear fell and caked a few of the words. He left the letter on the kitchen counter. He prepared the tea, and served it to his grandmother, for the last time.  
He leaned down to kiss his grandmother's head, and smiled sweetly.  
"Goodbye, grandmother. I love you."


End file.
